


Big Brother and Little Sister

by MsAtomicBomb



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Family, Fate Series - Freeform, Historical Fantasy, Middle Ages, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAtomicBomb/pseuds/MsAtomicBomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a child has been discarded on his doorstep, Diarmuid struggles to keep it. He leaves knighthood in order to take care of this little baby. But little does he know; there are forces that conspire against them and even if all he knows falls apart, he does all he possibly can to keep her safe —even if it means laying down his life for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The night was a bit chilly for a spring evening, the sun had set not so long before and the sky was as dark as the deep sea. The noises of the people in the streets made him a little irritated every now and again; he found it annoying that he lived right next to the market, and that the market was still open in the evening. There were times that he wanted to move away, but he would manage -at least he thought. In addition, he never really was home, only for the night. Throughout the day, he spent his time training with the Fianna and trying to make sense of things in his life; why he was alone, why he had no family to turn to and why he was a knight in the first place. His life was as meaningless as a speck of dust flying in the wind. He had nothing to offer and nothing to do for himself.

A knock on the door had made him jump a little and he whipped his towards it. After the knock did not persist, he went back to the kitchen and tried to focus on preparing dinner. It was something he always did and tried to make himself feel a bit better -the knock again.

Rolling his bronze eyes, he slowly made his way for the door, it was possible that a turtle was much faster than he at the given moment. After reaching the door, he opened the wooden block and was rather disappointed when there was no one at the door. Of course -the children of the block would always play these kinds of pranks, maybe even leave smelly things at his doorstep, like horse droppings or rotten eggs. His gaze dropped to the floor expecting to see something disgusting, except what he saw was worse.

A baby. So tiny and fragile. Skin ivory white, tiny hairs shining gold only visible by the torches that were hung around the town, casting dancing shadows and light upon the child and the stone doorstep. The straw basket cradling the baby like arms of a mother, keeping the child safe from the chilly air along with a blue wool blanket. Something so fragile at his doorstep -it made him gulp.

His heart dropped and he could only think how horrible it was to leave a child to some stranger. He knew exactly what it meant -the baby at the doorstep -and he wished that he could turn around, close the door and forget all about it. And he did just that. He took a deep step back, closed the door slowly and closed his eyes as well, as to avoid the problem altogether -trying to erase the baby's face from his mind. He saw nothing. There was nothing at the other side of the door. His chest constricted along with his lungs and he took a deep breath, trying to push the image of the pale baby in the jasmine yellow straw basket away even more. Hesitantly making his way back to the kitchen, he picked up a knife to start cutting the lettuce. Some one else would collect the child and bring it home with them; he needn't worry about it. There were people that could actually afford the child and pay for education and all. He needn't worry about it.

It had been about half an hour and the guilt was already starting to claw at his mind like a lioness; urging him to hurry back to the door -but he refused. He would not take the child in. He had no means of caring for it even if he did want it. Plus, he had not a single slice of time to give to the child amidst his knightly duties and training.

Someone would pick the baby up, he tried to convince himself over and over again, others were not nearly as heartless as he was. His hands were stained with blood of countless men, he wouldn't be able to be such a great father. He had no experience with children. Come to think of it, he was a bit strict. Children hated strict parents; didn't they? Why would someone even leave this baby for him? An even more puzzling question was why was he trying to put himself in a parent's shoes?

He let the knife down and clenched his hands into fists. No. No child was living in this house. But it's only a babe. No. No, no, no, no. What if no one takes the poor babe? What will you do then? You'll see it again in the morrow and by then you surely must take it under your wing.

"I said I that was not keeping it." He hissed out loud, his words leaking with something near to hatred, but not quite there yet. Running a hand through his hair and ruffling it he sighed. "I am the First Spear of Fianna, I am a loyal Knight. I have no time for children. That is my final decision." Who was he talking to? The angel on his shoulder of course. But that little voice persisted to take the child into his care. He wouldn't do it; never. Not to mention, he was not a children person -maybe he had already brought that justification up. He wasn't going to claim the child.


	2. Only For a Short While

A loud growl erupted from deep within his throat. He had said that he wouldn't, no longer than five minutes prior to his growl... And now he was actually considering it. Gulping, he turned his body in the direction of the door. "Fine, fine, fine." He grumbled under his breath and walked back towards the door; hopefully the babe was still at his doorstep. Once he opened the door again, he noted a young lady with a black cloak flinch. She tilted her head upwards, only green eyes shimmering past the darkness that the shadows of the town casted, as she let the handle of the basket slip from her fingers. There was a gasp and then she turned to run. "Thank you." Her voice was ever so delicate that it made him freeze, sadness and despair mixed within her angelic voice -something he swore he had never heard before.

"Wait!" He called as the female ran past the packing merchants. "Tell me why you left it with me?" He yelled out but she was long gone by then. He convinced himself that he was much too tired to chase after her for his legs ached from training, and it would not be the smartest of ideas to leave the child all by its self.

Biting his lower lip in exasperation, he looked down towards the small human once more. Picking up the straw basket, he ushered the child into the house and placed it on the dinner table, taking a seat in front of the baby. The light of the lantern danced in his amber orbs as he intently watched the sleeping child. What on earth was he doing? Was he insane? Taking a stranger's child into his care. He would only keep it for a short while, he said, until he found someone to take care of it, plus, he could convince a girl or two -he reasoned.

"What are we going to do with you?" He mumbled and blinked at the baby in the basket. The baby's face was so peaceful and calming that he could not help but smile softly. The blue blanket wrapped it securely and tried to keep it as warm as possible. "Do you have a name?" He mumbled. Of course, he knew that the child could not speak, for it only looked a number of months old, let alone it was sleeping either way.

A small sound came from the baby and his eyes grew wide as he drew closer to the child. But there was no further reaction from the baby, apart from the stretch of a tiny and chubby arm. Some sort of happiness sparked in his bronze eyes and he shook his head. "What a gift..." He mumbled and thought about how beautiful the child or even idea of the child was. "Now, why would your mum leave you? Was she lacking money? I can't exactly help you with that either... All I know is that she opted a better life for you, but she chose the wrong person. I apologize, but I cannot keep you."

Maybe his voice was a little too loud because the baby awoke, filling the room with high pitched screams and sobs. Why on earth did he bring the child in?

"Shhh," He hushed as the baby kept on crying, "Shhh." It's facial features had gone from calm to sorrowful; thin brows knitting together, arms and legs flailing about in the basket, a frown cutting deep into chubby cheeks and tears springing from miniature green orbs. His hands were frozen once again and he knew not how to deal with the weeping child. Slowly and shakily, he reached for it, landing a hand softly on it's belly. "Don't cry." He mumbled, but the baby persisted. "Hey, Hey, it's going to be alright, all will be well. Come on, stop crying."

Nothing he said would comfort the child and it only cried and cried. Now, he was filled with the fear that the neighbours would knock upon his door and complain about the wailing child. "Come on, don't cry." He then proceeded to rock the basket remembering that ladies in the town would do it to their children. "Shh, the neighbours might get mad." He murmured gently.

"Are you hungry? Do you want your mum? Uh...Um... what's wrong?" Asking was not doing any of the slightest good at all, and he should have already known; it was a babe for Christ's sake, it didn't understand him. After no success in rocking the basket, he carefully and cautiously scooped up the baby into his arms and began to cradle it awkwardly, hushing every now and again.

He was holding the child in an uncomfortable position for both him and the baby, but after trying his best to mimic the mothers he would see on his was to training, the baby was calming down. Tears still streamed down its plump cheeks, but the screams were beginning to settle and there was heavy breathing from it's tiny lungs. "You see; you're doing very well, aren't you?"

As if forgetting that it was crying, the baby immediately began to laugh and giggle as its small arms reached for the curl of the male and tried to play with it, as if it were some sort of toy. "You're not so bad, huh?" He spoke much too soon for the young child pulled upon the lock of hair and caused him to make a noise of pain and disapproval. The child only giggled louder and jollier.

"No, bad -girl?" He was now puzzled, he had not yet paid attention to the gender of the child and he was too embarrassed to check, plus he wasn't going to be keeping the child for long, so it was the next caretaker that would have to worry about the gender.

"Well, my little friend, would you like to go out to find a mother tomorrow?" He looked into its beautiful green eyes as it dropped its smile. He hoisted her up to hold her with one arm as he reached for the blanket within the basket. A small note slipped from the blanket and he furrowed his brows. "And what might this be?" He mumbled as he dropped the blanket and proceeded to pick up the note to read it. "September 16th? What do you think that means?" He looked at the baby and it only blinked back. "Arturia...? Is that you? You must be a wee girl then, huh?" He had read the name off the pale yellow paper and looked at her again. "Well, as a knight I must return the name, right?"

Arturia giggled again and reached for the strand of hair that dangled between his eyes.

"I am Diarmuid. Son of Aengus, but you don't really care, now do you?" His voice softened and he smiled at the child.

She giggled and laughed again at the male, almost clapping her hands. "Well, time is leaving us behind, so we must get to sleep, right Arturia?" The baby made no effort to tire and only giggled trying to flail its hands to catch the strand of black hair once again.

"Sleep." Diarmuid said as he closed his eyes and made a mocking sound of some kind of snore. "Sleep."

Taking Arturia's blanket along, he brought the tiny human into his small room and thought for a short while; where on earth would she sleep? For the first few days -since she would cry for most of the nighttime -he would cradle her and fall asleep with his back against the headboard and small Arturia within his arms. Of course, every morning he would wake with a sore neck and back, his butt numb as well. In addition he had no luck nowadays with trying to find a mother.

Having made a makeshift baby carrier in order to move about with the child on his back. He had gotten used to feeding it; smashing with a mortar and pestle his food in order to give it to the toothless baby; he had not yet wasted money on the child, but he had given her all his time for an entire week, which meant he had not even contacted the Fianna since the day he had acquired the baby.

On his way to the Fianna's castle, he tried his best to pass the baby on to very nice women that he had met years prior. Not any of those young girls that would come and go every now and again, they weren't responsible, he deemed. It was as if, at the mention or even sight of a baby, the women quickly fled, not even bothering to bat an eye or flirt with him. It was relaxing, if he would have to say, no women bothered him and he considered keeping the child for the smallest of moments. Not to mention, whenever he was able to try and convince a woman to take her, Arturia would begin to flail her arms and cry as loudly as possible, causing the ladies to give some sort of disgusted look before leaving without a simple goodbye.

Climbing the hill to reach the top, he was tired and figured the baby was as well-because she began to cry loudly once again. "Oh, look, look." He took her off his back and held her in one hand. "Look at this." He picked up a small dandelion and showed it to the baby, whom only continued to weep.

"Keep your eyes open, sweetie." He spoke softly and then blew on the dandelion, allowing for the seeds to fly over the hill, gently floating about to take their place somewhere else so that they could make their own family.

Arturia stopped crying and looked at the male intently, waiting for him to preform the trick once more, and he did. Receiving a high pitched sound of approval and a clap, he passed one to her and made a simulation of blowing air so she could do the same, but she wouldn't understand, she was much too young.

"Come on, Oisín is waiting, I'm sure you'll like him." Diarmuid smiled and hoisted her higher into his arms only to take her up the hill. Upon reaching the courtyard of the building, he smirked as all the knights that had been practicing were suddenly looking at him and the object in his hands.

"Is it yours?" One of the knights yelled out.

"I guess it is..." He called back and the baby became overwhelmed by the faces that her facial features twisted into a frown, prepared to cry but he cradled her a little and she refrained.

"So someone finally stood up to you and brought the baby she boar on your part, huh?" Oisín smirked as he crossed his hands over his built chest to view the child without touching its puffy cheeks, although it was really tempting for him.

Diarmuid furrowed his brows and looked at the child. "What? No, she's not mine, her mother left her and now she can only stay with me -for the time being that is. I haven't slept with anyone other than... Well, you know who. And no one I ever met has blonde hair, either way." He held onto the baby a little more loosely so that it could stretch its arms.

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Oisín waved his hand about. "So this is the reason that you haven't been showing up, eh? A week, right?"

"Yeah, she likes to cry a lot and man, are the nights a real pain in the arse." Diarmuid grumbled.

"No such words should be used in front of such an innocent face." Loughaid interrupted as he too came to see the child.

"I'm giving her up soon, I haven't the time to spend on her."

"You're fifteen, boy, you have the time, plus; look at the innocent thing -she's a sack of adorableness." Oisín smirked and leaned down a bit to look at the young girl. "Aren't you?"

"Since you're so fond of her Oisín," Diarmuid smirked, "why not take her under your wing?"

"Me? A father? Ha! What a joke." His cousin laughed loudly and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. "Look, son, you're the most empathetic of all of us, so I believe it best that you take care of her. Finding some one will be rather hard, so why not just keep her?"

"Because I'm not going to half-ass this. If I'm going to take care of her, then I have to quit the Fianna. It would be the only way." Diarmuid looked at the tiny human and held her a bit tighter -she was very adorable. Currently the child was sucking on her thumb and watching the people around her intently, hiding into Diarmuid.

"Quitting the Fianna because of that?" A blond man came into view. "Ridiculous. Get rid of her, you're a knight before you are a caretaker of meaningless things. You shouldn't keep it, it is better for a knight to not have family."

"Paul, take that back, Arturia has nothing to do with you. She is a human, and very much alive, so do not call her meaningless. Yes I am a knight before a caretaker, but if I cannot find anyone to take her, then I must have the balls to take her." Diarmuid growled.

"Arturia? You even named her? Amazing." Paul chuckled sarcastically, almost hissing it with jealousy tainting his words.

Diarmuid gave him a cold glare and turned to leave. "Well, I can return when people are not against the idea of having a child in the training area. I will be looking for a home for Arturia if you need me." He spoke and then began to walk.

"I hope you find someone soon." Oisín smiled and waved the younger male off, as if over looking Paul and Diarmuid's disagreement, which made Diarmuid's blood boil.

Diarmuid turned his head and waved. "Thank you, hopefully I do."


	3. Her First Word

"Bwa... Da."

His eyes grew double their size as his head flipped towards her. "Can you repeat that?" His voice was a whisper and he slowly approached her. "What did you say? I wasn't able to hear you, Artie. Say it again for your brother to hear."

She didn't say a single word again and only giggled, playing with flowers that he had brought from outside the house. She tore the petals off, simply because she did not know any better. The summer air was much too dense for them and he only imagined how hot she could be.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he smiled at her. "Maybe I'm imagining things, no?" He sighed and turned back around to continue polishing his red lance. It had been quite a long while since he had even touched the weapon. It upset him that he had left the Fianna, but Oisín assured that they would always await his return.

"Bwada! Bwada!" The young child pounded her fist on the bed that she sat on, with lots of enthusiasm and excitement. "Bwada!" Giggling filled the room and he hurried towards her again, his heart fluttering at the sound of her high pitched squeals, hoping to form the word.

"Yes?" He smiled brightly as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. "I am your brother." He realized she was calling him. Diarmuid's stomach churned and he held her tighter, he was glad he kept her. What a beautiful gift, he would repeat it to himself over and over as the child would try and say "brother".

"Brother loves you, okay Artie." He pulled back from the hug and smiled at her. "Since you said your very first word, how about I take you to see Oisín, since you love him so, okay?"

Arturia only blinked up at him -a bright smile on her tiny lips -and he lifted from the bed, holding her securely in his arms before taking his lances and heading towards the Fianna. He had noticed that ever since he had gotten Arturia, there were less women to approach him everyday. Thus, Arturia earned the nickname "An Irishman's lucky charm", it fit her perfectly -as Diarmuid thought. He walked through the town and would sense as women viewed him whilst he passed them by, eyes always stuck on him.

"We're almost there. Osín will be so happy to see us? Wouldn't he?" Diarmuid smiled at the child as she looked around for a source of entertainment. Her small lips, glossed with saliva, were slightly parted while her tiny chubby hands gripped his tunic loosely. Her blonde hair was starting to grow out a bit more and it made him feel happy because soon enough he would be able to put flowers in her hair and make her more feminine, since she looked older, he would be able to get her proper clothing.

As for a profession in the time being, he had been doing chores for some store clerks to get the sufficient amount of money, and since he was young and a previous knight -they jumped at the idea of hiring him. He would always try his best to bring Arturia along as long as the job did not seem too dangerous. If that were the case, he would leave her in his cousin's care, for if he would let her get injured, Diarmuid would castrate him, or so he was threatened.

Diarmuid noted that she very much liked Oisín, since she always giggled when he would take care of her -and he was even told that she would not even whine the slightest bit. "I was starting to get jealous, you know, but now I bet Oisín will be the one that will be jealous."

Reaching the headquarters, he smiled and pushed past the gate to enter the Spanish Architecture styled manor, going past the main entrance, he arrived back at the training grounds. The beaming sun, the sounds of clashing weapons and crunching metal, and the laughing of his former comrades made him overjoyed, he almost regretted leaving.

"Hey!" A man shouted. "Outsiders are not allowed! Get out!" It was a rough and husky voice, one he wasn't sure he recognized. Ah, probably his replacement or a new recruit.

"I'm no outsider." Diarmuid announced, trying to find the source of the voice.

There was a growl. "In literal terms you are, only because you're the leader's nephew doesn't mean that you should get special treatment." It was Paul again.

Diarmuid laughed lightheartedly, secretly want to attack the other man, but he reasoned that his sweet Arturia should not be in harm's way. "You jest to much, Paul. Anyways, I came looking for my Cousin, is he possibly around? If not could you send him my way? Thanks." Was Diarmuid mocking him?

"Don't talk to me like that!" Paul hissed.

Diarmuid blinked a couple of times and shrugged. "I don't want to start a fight. I only came to speak with Oisín of an urgent matter. Now, is he here or-"

"Cousin!" A cheerful voice echoed in the training grounds. "Is my darling here too?"

"Yes. I came to talk to you about something very important covering her."

"Is she ill?" Oisín immediately ran towards the other male at a rather high speed, worrying over the poor little girl. "Did you feed her some bad milk? Or cheese? This is why I should take her. She's probably poisoned from your cooking."

"No -hey! I know how to cook!" Diarmuid held his chest as he felt offended. "You beg me to cook for you."

"But I am a grown man, and she is but a wee girl! Is she sick? What's wrong?"

"I won!" Diarmuid smirked. "Come on," he turned her about in his arms and set her down on a stool he had found lying around. "Say it for brother."

"She didn't, did she? Oh my, guys come here!" Oisín called all the knights to crowd around the little child.

The baby's eyebrows furrowed and her lips twisted into a frown, she was at the brink of tears until Diarmuid scooped her up from the stool. "It's okay, I'm here with you, it's okay." He hushed softly, everyone still keeping their gaze on her.

"Bwada..." As if on cue, most males let out a sigh of happiness and Oisín went as far as to blurt out a long "Aww".

"Isn't she the cutest?"

"Yes! She's adorable!" Oisín jumped towards Diarmuid and took the girl from his arms, bouncing her about every so often. "Look at your uncle Oisín, look at me." He repeated a couple of times as she did not pay any attention to him, rather than doing as he asked. "Come on, darling."

The baby was silent in his arms, she did not make a single noise, but instead looked about the courtyard as she scanned the faces of the people. It was strange for her, being looked at by all the people as if she were some specimen. "Okay, it is time to give her back." The younger male stated, smiling brightly.

"I think that I'll keep her."

"Not possible."

"What about for the day?"

Diarmuid sighed loudly and crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright." He gave in. "But only for the rest of the day."

"How about three days, or a week?"

"Haha," Diarmuid laughed cheerfully. "No." He had dropped his smile rather quickly, showing a cold demeanour. "Absolutely not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter; thank you for reading :))


	4. Danger in the Village

He was singing —more like attempting —to her. It was an old rhyme that was apparently sung to children. It had to do with an animal walking in the forest and he would forget the rest because he would not hear it all the time, and that was the only part he ever heard. It was also to teach children not to be out so late or to do something bad —not that she was old enough to disobey him that much.

Since it was a holy day, no merchant stand was open, and the town seemed rather quite. He hadn't felt so at peace in a long while, as he held her in his arms and sang to her softly. She was growing now, and was almost a year old. He found it amusing how his life had changed quite a lot since she was left at his doorstep.

After her first word, he promised himself that he would take of her for as long as he physically could. He didn't know then, but it was very important that he did take good care of her.

The sky was getting darker as the night fell upon them, and he could only think of how uneventful his days were, now with the child and all. There was no action, or excitement; but there was a lot of cuteness and sometimes sleepless nights. He was not going to lie, it was hard taking care of a child.

A loud knock interrupted his singing and he set Arturia down on the bed before he went to go get the door. He put a finger to his lips and hushed for her to keep silent.

The knock got much louder and frantic as he approached the door. "Yes?" Diarmuid opened the door leisurely, even stretching a bit.

"Diarmuid, get Arturia, and go." It was his cousin, panting loudly and sweating, it looked as if he had been running all the way from the Fianna's quarters.

Diarmuid furrowed his brows and let out a chuckle. "What?" He shook his head, not quite understanding what the other meant.

Taking a deep breath, Oisín looked at Diarmuid in the eyes. "Get out of here now; they're taking them and killing them. Run with her." The male before him was holding his side and Diarmuid only noticed then that he was bleeding.

"Oisín, what happened? Who is killing who? I don't understand, what is going on?" Now he was worried, bringing the older male into his house and leading him to the bedroom. "What are you doing running while you're bleeding?"

"The Saxons are looking for a baby —I don't know which one —but they are killing them all." Now those words made Diarmuid take a step back, and then he heard several screams. "The Fianna couldn't hold them back. There were too many of them."

"What happened to the bell? You could have advised the village."

"They knew about the bell; everyone must be dead if they got this far." Now Oisín held tears in his eyes, his brows were furrowed from the pain in his side, and his heart heavy while he thought of his comrades.

"What?" Diarmuid was confused and he looked at the male with disbelief as the screams drew closer, mixing with the cries of babies. He still felt as if the events were unreal, as if he had been dreaming them.

"Hurry!" As his cousin yelled this, Arturia began to cry and Diarmuid's hand flew to his mouth. "Come on." Oisín avoided his bleeding side and stood from the bed, swooping Arturia from it and pushing her into Diarmuid's arms.

Arturia remained in one hand as he sheathed his lances in his back and strapped the baby to his chest. He was prepared surprisingly fast, because the screams were no already at his doorstep.

They had escaped through the back door and tried to flee into the forest, but it was to their disadvantage that a couple of Saxons had caught them escaping and followed them into the woods.

The town was starting to light fire, the warm flames making a false sunrise in the night time. Twigs cracked under their feet as they ran past the tall trees, hoping to get away from the Saxons that followed behind while Arturia continued to cry. As they got deeper into the woods, it became darker and the screams became much more distant. It was frightening and it made a shiver run through his spine.

They ran, as fast and as far as they could. They had believed that they had outrun the other warriors, so they hid, within some bushes as Diarmuid tried to silence the weeping child with attempts to make her happy. Once she became silent, they were dragged into the peacefulness of the forest; birds chirping every now and again as wind kissed the leaves goodnight.

Diarmuid held Arturia closer to himself and tried to keep her warm as he finally felt the fall breeze invade the forest around him. The branches from the bushes cause for his arms to be scratched and even draw a bit of blood, but he didn't mind because he was focused on slowing his breathing and staying hidden from the enemies that lurked around them.

"Give me your cloak, I can see them." Oisín hushed over his shoulder and towards the other man.

"What?"

"Just give it to me."

Diarmuid kept silent and moved a little to give the man the cloak. Making little to no sounds what-so-ever.

"Wish me luck." Oisín smiled brightly, having a goofy look on his facial features.

"What? What do you mean?" Diarmuid hushed as his cousin wrapped the cloak in an oval shape.

"See you later." He gave a last smile before bolting out of the bushes and running past the Saxons so that they could follow him, and not linger near Diarmuid.

That was the last time Diarmuid saw Oisín; with a goofy smile on his face and adventure sparkling in his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

"Why do we have to move?" The five year-old pouted and crossed her arms, wrinkling the blue dress she wore. "I don't want to leave!" She thought that this little village was the best in the entire country, and so she did not want to move —even if her older brother wanted them to go across the sea to the other country; one she was unfamiliar with.

"It is for your own good, Arturia." The male crouched down in order to be eye level with the young girl. She had grown a lot since he had left the Fianna to help the wee babe. Sometimes he was very thankful that he had kept her, but others she would be much too difficult that he would even think twice. He slowly pat her head and smiled tenderly. "Artie, you promised to be a good girl for brother. I need your support or else brother can never accomplish anything."

"I did promise, but I have friends now —things change when you get attached to people." Some of the r's were continued to be pronounced as w's, making him want to kiss her forehead; but he knew better than to do that while she was pouting, and rebelling against him.

"The ones you bully?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow. The other day two mothers had come to him asking him to discipline his 'daughter' because she was was a little 'savage'.

She gasped loudly as her green eyes widened in disbelief at such accusation, "I do not bully them! They are my friends."

Diarmuid chuckled lightly showing that he was delighted with her attitude.

"It is not funny, brother!" She pouted even louder, even going as far as stomping her foot.

"John's mother came to me —the other day —and told me that you pushed him in the mud. Is that really being a good friend?" He asked lightly, awaiting her answer patiently.

"That was because he said I had no mother because no one wanted me." She almost growled it, recalling how upset she had been that day. "I got so mad, that I pushed him into the mud and Lisa helped me!"

"Did he really say that?" Diarmuid inquired as he took a seat on the floor in front of her, not minding if his trousers were going to be dirtied by the mud she had trailed in upon her arrival.

Arturia nodded slowly.

The male scratched his head and sighed. "And why did you not tell me this earlier?" He mumbled lightly. "I could have told his mother when I had the chance."

"I did not want to hurt your feelings too." She spoke so lowly that he could barely hear her. "He's right. Mommy left because she did not like me." Her puffy cheeks made little to no movement and she sniffed and dropped her head to avoid his gaze.

"Look at me, Artie, look at me." He said as he lifted her face. "John is a rude little kid; he does not know anything. Mommy loved you and I know daddy loved you too because you are the cutest child anyone would ever want." He then enraptured her into a tight hug. "They had to leave you for other complications and you need to always remember that they love you. And whenever other children make fun of you, tell me and I will deal with them. I was a knight; remember?" Arturia began to cry as he held her in a secure embrace.

"Okay." She nodded into his should as she whined a little bit.

"Now," he pulled away from the hug and wiped the tears from her eyes, "you are a strong and good girl, right?"

Arturia sniffed and nodded again, trying to stop her crying.

"Then, you and I will have to move. I promise that you will make better friends and no one will bully you again, okay?"

"But I do not want to move..."

"Okay, I'll let you on a little secret;" he motioned her to come closer so that he could whisper in her ear, "we are going to see the little people. It's in a far off land where we have to go on a boat and we have to travel for countless days."

"The little people?" She raised her voice, a little excited.

"Shh," he put a finger to his lips, "only you and I can go. You cannot tell you friends because the little people do not want them to come with us."

"Are you sure that the little people want to see us?"

"Yes, they do."

"Lisa says that the little people took her dog one day and he never returned. She says that the little people are scary. Her mother told her that they are out to get you, just like they did with her dog."

"The little people are not scary the slightest bit. They actually take good care of you if you go missing. It is up to the person if they want to return to their own life, or dog if they take one." He spoke softly and tried to keep her interested in the conversation. He was not actually taking her to see Fairies but he knew it would make her excited.

"Okay then; I will go with you." She nodded slowly and sniffed again, wiping her nose in the process.

* * *

 

He had bought a horse and was even able to bring it across the Irish Sea with them. Arturia was anxious all throughout the journey, looking out at the landscapes and waiting for them to arrive in the land of the little people. Her green eyes always looking through the trees and the sea around them, awaiting eagerly. The ocean breeze was sweet and refreshing; the water was calming for most of the ride from Hibernia towards Logres —even in the nighttime. The horse would make little to no noise at all and he always held the little girl tightly and securely so that she would not fall off the boat and then it would turn into a rescue mission. Every time he saw her smile, he would be so glad that he kept her under his wing.

"Look brother! It's Nessie!" She pointed at a moving log in the water.

Diarmuid smiled and kissed her forehead, "No silly, Nessie lives in Loch Ness not in the Irish Sea." He then ruffled her hair.

"But Nessie can swim from Loch Ness to here." She murmured.

"Then it might be Nessie!" He said as she became excited again and waved at the log that was too far away for her to see what it really was.

"Hello Nessie!" She called out waving even more enthusiastically. She was one giddy child, but it was always a good thing and there was nothing bad about how cute she always seemed —even when she had done something wrong.

The first town they visited was large, but there weren't many children Arturia's age —actually none at all —which upset the little child because she had no one to play with. It was truly hard for him to even find children around, making him ponder about what had happened and Arturia's bickering did not help much at all.

"Hello." Diarmuid smiled as he set the produce on the counter and glanced over at the store clerk. Cloak a little damp from the journey and hair a complete mess.

"Good evening." The store owner nodded. "Is that your daughter?" He asked as he glanced through the window to look at the child that was only playing all by herself.

"My younger sister." He replied with a smile. "We came all the way from Hibernia." The Irishman continued.

"You best be careful." The red-haired man warned. "The Saxons have a reputation around here." It was almost whispered, as if the man feared that someone had been listening to their short conversation.

Diarmuid tilted his head a little to the right and blinked in confusion. "What do you mean the Saxons?" He asked in a hushed tone. "Does it have to do with the lack of children around this town?"

"It is like this all over Logres —you might be the only one with child her age." The man looked over at Arturia again, who was currently playing outside with the the mud —dirtying her dress all over.

Diarmuid pursed his lips together in a line. He was truly upset and a bit disgusted. "Hibernia is the same; it was difficult for me to find a village with children her age."

"It only gets worse as you approach the city of Camelot. It is truly depressing. A few years ago," the man looked around in caution, "the Saxons just went about; trying to find out the missing heir of Uther. They knew the child was going to be taken somewhere else and that was when it all began: mothers are still weeping around here." The clerk continued his explanation. "It has taken a while for Camelot to recover since. It surprises me that the invasion even reached Hibernia."

"It was chaotic in my village too —we were one of the few, maybe only, to get away from the Saxons." He mumbled. "They had gotten to my cousin who had covered for me back then."

The sound of the shaking door had alarmed the two men inside, it was only the little blonde who had trouble opening the door as she ran inside the store and called out to Diarmuid. "Bratha, bratha." She still had trouble pronouncing it as she pulled on the male's dark and muddied cloak. "Come outside! There's a lady in black. She is circling the trees! Is she one of the little people?"

Diarmuid furrowed his brows and blinked down at the little girl a couple of times. "Lady in black?"

"She haunts the forest;" The store clerk decided to answer the question. "mostly appears to little children. No one has spotted her for years either. As long as your sister does not get too close, everything will be fine." He gave a sweet smile to the little girl. "Since it is late; do you need a place to stay? The inn is across the street and it would be best to travel the woods by day time now that the Black Lady has appeared."

Diarmuid thought of how much it would side-track them but deemed it better to keep the young child safe, rather than get her harmed or into any type of dangerous situations. "Thank you, I think it would be best to rest, right Artie?"

The little girl nodded and ran back outside to await the male.

"Thank you, and I will be sure to keep away from the Black Lady." Diarmuid gave a soft smile to the store owner as he set a couple of silver coins on the counter and took the food he bought in order to follow the little girl out of the store. Upon catching up to her, he had instructed her to take a hold of his hand and hurry so that the upcoming rain would not catch up to them.


	6. Black Lady, Black Lady, I Have Your Baby

They were fortunate to have gotten a room in the village, along with many stares from countless people. The room was rather small and stuffy, it smelled of dust and hidden away sheets. He wondered how long it had been since someone had rented the room, it had possibly been years! There were many lit candles around the room and Arturia was eager to jump on the bed.

"Lookie! It's bouncy!" She had somehow managed to reach the top of the bed and had begun to jump on it, scaring him for he had envisioned her falling off.

Diarmuid gave her a soft smile but a warning look, "Sorry, but off the bed. We have to get you cleaned. Look, you got yourself so dirty." He pointed at the previously blue dress that was now spattered with mud and possibly horse droppings.

"But, Dia!" She groaned loudly and continued to jump. "Please!"

"Nope, come on. Off we go to bathe you." He smiled and approached her. Once he had gotten to the bed, to swoop her up from it, she jumped back and he missed her. "Come back." He said as she jumped from the bed landed on the floor, running about so that he would start to chase her. Yes, he might have been a knight but it was hard to catch a little girl that could hide under the bed and go through smaller places. He had chased her about the room and had failed to catch her countless times. It had been the rug's fault the she tripped and fell face-first.

He gasped as she lay still. Then crying erupted from her throat. Loud and high pitched screaming echoed around the room and he raced to her, lifting her from the floor and into his arms. Tears streamed down her face and he noticed a little bit of blood trickling from her nose. "It's okay, Artie." He cradled her in his arms. She only continued to cry and he stood from the floor with the child in his arms as he headed for the bathroom. He took this as an opportunity to clean her up with a cloth and some water. He cleaned her tears first and then proceeded to cleaning the trickle of blood from her nose as she tried to calm down her heavy breathing. Her green eyes were glossed and slightly puffy as he continued to clean her face. "You are just fine; see." He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "You are a big girl and falling is nothing; right?"

The little girl sniffled and gave a small nod, "Wight." She murmured between her lips as he took one of her hands in his own.

"Do you want to take a bath now?" He squeezed her hand lightly and she gave another nod.

"Okay."

* * *

He awoke once the sun had hit his face and he slowly opened his eyes, the sun penetrating into his orbs and causing him to squint slightly. She was snuggled in his arms —breathing evenly and softly. Her golden hair was shinning gold in the sunlight and he gave her a gentle kiss on the head as he sat up from the bed and rolled off. After the bath, she had fallen asleep rather fast and he accompanied her into the loving slumber. Running a hand through his messy hair, he rolled his shoulders and began to yawn a little bit. He found it easier to get ready and then get something to eat before the little girl would awaken —he knew how troublesome she could get in the mornings.

Rolling his neck, he did just that. Making sure to close the door behind him silently, he made his way to the main floor of the inn and met with the Innkeeper. "What do you have for breakfast?" He blinked at the lady before him as she looked up.

"What would you like?" The dark-haired lady grew a bright and wide smile. "We have porridge, stew, milk, oats, some meat, cheese. Mead, if you want to share a drink." A wink from her part.

He had seemed unaffected by the flirting, "Whatever is cheaper." He could hear clouds rolling again and then rain began to fall. The droplets hitting the windows of the inn and echoing past the many people talking.

The woman giggled and eyed the male over, "Everything is free for a handsome man such as yourself."

"Meat Stew. Thank you." He placed a couple of silver coins on the table not stopping to flirt with the lady, for he already had enough of women. He leaned against the counter as he waited for the stew to be given to him. He would eat a quarter and give the rest to Arturia, since he wanted her to be kept healthy. It took quite a while for the stew to get to him, probably ten minutes or so because she had not made the batch yet.

"Who is the Black Lady?" He looked at the female in front of him.

The woman shrugged, "Well, there are many legends as to why she's there..." She shrugged, "But the most famous is; Her husband had been drafted of to war many years ago and he never came home. After a while she gave birth but one day, Saxons came and took her baby —this was way before the incident we had a few years ago. When we still had children around, they would be lured in and they would sing this chant that made them disappear within the forest."

A man stumbled into the inn, an expression of surprise on his facial features just as Diarmuid began to eat the stew, "There's a little girl by the edge of the forest! The black Lady is there!" He was panting, as if he had run from the edge of the woods all the way to the inn —which was not a far distance.

Diarmuid's face lifted from the bowl before him and he looked at the man. "A girl?" He furrowed his brows.

"Yes, a little girl. She's blonde." The man coughed as he tried to catch his breath.

The Irishman stood from the table and hurried off outside, how on earth had Arturia gotten to the forest without him noticing her leave the inn? The rain poured on and he tried to run towards the girl without slipping. He was rather fast and —just as the man had said —Arturia slowly walked towards the forest, as if being pulled towards it by something else for she seemed unaffected by the falling rain. "Arturia!" He called out to the little girl, but she did not even stop or look back. He heard her chant something but he could not understand what she was saying for the rolling clouds were beginning to hush her.

He picked up his speed when he noticed a lady in black standing at the edge of the forest, not caring if he stepped upon puddles as he reached her and took her by the arm; that was when he was able to hear what she had been chanting; "Black Lady, Black Lady, I have your baby."

"Arturia!" He yelled at her and then she looked up at him. Faded and clouded green orbs looking at him with a monotone expression. "What are you doing?" He had raised his voice and she finally reacted as her green eyes were filled with tears and life.

"A boy told me to do it." She defended herself as she saw the anger in his rust orange eyes. "He was over...there." She pointed near the forest but there was no child.

"What on earth were you doing by yourself? Have I not told you to never go off by yourself?" He held her arm a little too tightly, ignoring the lady that stood by the edge of the forest. He noted that she wore a black veil that covered her face and he was unable to see what she looked like.

Her lower lip quivered and she began to cry again, this time he was not going to be sympathetic. "I am sowwy." She cried.

"Arturia, do you know what could have happened to you if I had not come? I am trying to save you and you cannot even obey my only rule?"

"I am sowwy, bwatha." Her voice was strained and she shook in fear. "Don't huwt me." She mumbled.

It was then that he realized he was holding her arm too tightly and she was cowering a little bit, almost trying to hide from him. He immediately let go of her arm and looked back to where the Black Lady used to be —but there was nobody there. He turned his attention back to the little girl and took a deep breath. "Artie, I am sorry. Please do not ever leave without me again." He spoke softly as he crouched down in front of her. "Will you forgive me."

She was afraid to look at him in the eyes and she mumbled something and nodded lightly. "Okay."

"Do you promise to always listen to me?" He asked silently and she nodded. "Okay, good, come on. Camelot is waiting for us okay?"

"Okay." He refrained from touching her because he felt guilty that he had hurt her. He did not want her hating him for that reason. They had walked back to the inn and he had made sure that she was in front of him so that she would not turn back to see the lady again. He had packed their belongings and he took his yellow lance in his hand as the other lance was put away. Diarmuid was sure not to take her by the hand as they both left the room and made their way towards their horse in order to continue their journey.


	7. Blood on Your Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Author's Note~
> 
> Okay so this is a very drastic change from everything I have been writing for the story; here we see a very saddening scene so WARNING! DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! Anyway, please enjoy and have an amazing day or week or evening! Until next time! OH OH OH! Thank you for all you reviews and I really do love you all!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> ~Ms. AtomicBomb

She was fast asleep in his arms when they had arrived in the City of Camelot three days later by nightfall. It was dark and he had managed to get a room at the inn in order to escape the night and have a comfortable bed that the child and him could use for the evening. She had learnt not to disobey him again and she was no longer quivering when he lifted his hand to reach out to her. Diarmuid carried her in his arms and dismounted his horse, taking their things along. Upon entering the room, he noticed that in the morrow he was to find a job. All of Camelot seemed deserted, due to the lack of children; it was a wonder that Camelot was still under Uther's rule. At least the Saxons had not taken over the Kingdom; now that would have been completely chaotic and the people would not be able to recover so soon. Although, Diarmuid had noticed that some women had looked past the incident and were starting to conceive children. This was good thing because what would happen if they did not and then in a few years the people would not have any basis for an army and there would be no knights to protect the kingdom.

Diarmuid lay awake in bed as the girl beside him was in deep slumber. He would often do this; it was more of a time he used for reflection or planning ahead. He would think of his future and Arturia's as well. Now that the child was old enough to be kept with a governess, he thought it best to become a Knight once more. It had always been his wish after the child was in his hands. He would enroll the little girl in a sword-fighting class so she would learn when he was not at home and when he was he would teach her skills she could use. He hoped to raise her as a good and loyal girl; who would be able to also be a knight one day because it was an honourable way of life, as well as an exciting one. Of course she was able to choose her path when she was old enough to make her very own life choices. He only imagined how beautiful she would be when she was old enough to have her own little family, hopefully her very own child and a caring husband.

He could hear the noises of the busy city night from the bed that was placed near a small window. Unlike before, he found comfort in the talking people, he finally felt at peace with the many noises; finding familiarity within them and making his heart settle a bit. They reminded him of the time when he was a Knight for the Fianna and the time he was able to spend in Hibernia with his cousins. Oddly enough, the commotion also reminded of the first time he saw the baby girl—so tiny and fragile. She had been so innocent, and she still was, that it made him think when he his innocence had been stained. It had been when he was probably the age of ten or eleven; he could not recall.

* * *

There was blood that tainted his skin; a knife in his hands and a limp body in front of him—so still it could have passed as a boulder, save for the crimson puddle around it. It was cold and he knew that it was snowing—had been for the last few hours. The windows in the cabin shook violently and made him jump every now and again. He would have naturally brought a hand to his face to stop himself from whimpering or from seeing the sight, but that would mean that he would stain his face with blood as well. His stomach constricted and he felt awfully sick all of the sudden, as if there was a worm in his body wishing to slither out. He hurled his sickness next to the limp body and backed away slowly. He was trembling, the knife had even fallen out of his hands as he took yet another step back. He wanted to get away, he wanted to run and never look back; never even think about it. He could not understand what had happened. It had occurred much too fast for him to even comprehend. _You would not be alive_ , he had tried to comfort himself, _he would have killed you._

The door creaked behind him and he lifted in the air with a quick jump and he whipped his head towards the origin of the sound. Fear flooding his mind, eyes growing wide and heart beating faster. He would run; he _needed_ to.

 _"Diarmuid?"_ It was crystal clear that the person who had spoken was afraid, it was evident in their voice. Diarmuid could not tell what they were afraid of, whether it be for the bloodied hands of his, or for the body behind him; or even both.

 _"Father_ — _"_ he had stopped himself, trying to find the right words to say to the man before him, _"_ _—I am sorry."_ Tears blurred his vision and he began to shake violently that he could see his hands loose control. There was nothing else to say, he could not fill his mouth with words. The fear was taking over him and the guilt was beginning to flood him with remorse.

 _"Diarmuid,"_ The man before him was scared but he did not show it because he did not want the child to feel anymore horrid _, "It is alright; it was not your fault."_ He was so kind, and Diarmuid thought that he did not deserve that.

Tears began to slide down his cheek endlessly, but he still had not whined or let out a whimper of any sort. The tears only fell from the place they had taken at the corner of his eyes. He tried to explain himself once more opening his mouth so the the words would flow out. So that he _could feel normal again. "He entered the cabin...and would not let me go_ — _and_ _—and... It was an accident father; I never meant for this to happen. I did not want to hurt him."_

 _"I know, son. Now, let us get you cleaned up, okay?"_ His voice was soft; loving and kind. How could Aengus have been so calm? How could he give him such a kind smile after seeing what was before him? Such a loving touch as so to wrap him in a tight and caring embrace after the horrible display of events? As if nothing had happened? As if there was nothing that phased him? It was what a child had needed at this time, though. And it was thanks to Aengus that Diarmuid could even begin to get over such a tragedy in the first place.

He was dazed; eyes no longer holding any emotion as he viewed the fire sparking in front of him. He seemed lifeless; almost like the corpse that remained in the cabin behind them, _"Father... Am I a monster?"_ Diarmuid mumbled past his lips as the son of the Dagda cleaned the child's hands—cleansing him of the impurity that had taken him for a short while.

 _"No you are not. You are a good boy, this was not your fault. this was never your fault, my son, it was never."_ His foster father looked at him with forgiving eyes, something that surprised the little child.

The snow fell as they left the cabin, the child hoisted in his father's arms, shielded from the harsh cruel blizzard around him—so as to protect him from the cruelty of world around him altogether. A single blanket was wrapped around him, warmth embracing him. Warmth; something so distant at this moment. The flakes were so beautiful but so strong as they whipped the father and son—nearly blocking their vision. No one would know of the incident, no one would ever know a single detail. The boy would be kept clean and under no stress, whatsoever. He was going to be a good little boy; he was going to grow into a loyal and brave man— _he would forget this._

* * *

 He gasped for breath as he awoke from the dream, beads of sweat glistening his forehead and drenching the shirt he wore. He was panting as he had pulled himself to as sitting position on the bed. He looked at his hands expecting to see the red liquid staining his skin; but the was nothing there—no blood, no knife and no life that had been robbed. He wished he could have forgotten that part of his life, hoped he could have had amnesia or something. He slowly got up from the bed, not daring to look at the child that slept soundly. He did not deserve her; he did not deserve to keep such a beautiful gift after all he had ever done. He was no Saint, he was not innocent; and he had not been for ten years. A chill ran down his spine and he rolled his neck to suppress the disturbing feeling; rolling his shoulders and yawning as he stood from the bed—floor boards whining beneath him with every single move.

Diarmuid walked towards the window and looked out to see the early morning people walking about and moving on with their lives; something he wish he could do. They were all calm and jolly, no one seemed as if they had ever done a wrong in their lives— _liars._ Everyone had something to hide; everyone had done something that showed the beast they truly were; no one was sinless. And no one out there was certainly a saint. They were as much of a monster as he was; in their own ways—whether it be due to Lust or greed or anything else that tainted their souls with impurity and uncleanliness. Everyone was evil, but children were not—at least he hoped that they were not.

He placed his elbows on the windowsill and rubbed his face with his hands; regret washing over him like a wave again—regret of everything he had done in his life.

There were creaks behind him, "Bwada..." A soft grumble interrupted his train of though and he refrained from glancing back at the little girl. She sounded so innocent; so pure.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind in the process, "Yes?" He blinked out of the window again, trying not to imagine her face and hoping to punish himself.

"I'm hungwy." She yawned and the bed creaked a little bit under her small weight as she sat up on the bed. "Vewy hungwy."

"Then I guess we should go eat something." He mumbled and turned around, avoiding the young child for he felt unworthy and impure again. "Let us pack first." He added and the little girl yawned again before slipping out from the bed and getting her dress in order to change. She was very lovely and very sweet, but he could not bring himself to even glance at her. The memories of the man and the knife in his hands still haunted him every now and again; and sometimes he would see himself in that situation again. When he was being aggressive, and when he would get irritated with the girl. It would take him an entire day to get over the guilty feeling; but he could tell that this one would last longer; because he could not even forgive himself or try and comfort himself this time around.


	8. A Wizard

A knock on the door had stopped him from packing up the remainder of their belongings and Diarmuid guessed it was the innkeeper trying to drive them off or something of the sort, since they had only payed for one night. He approached the door and opened it slowly, whilst making sure that Arturia remained seated on the bed. "We are on our way out, sir." He spoke, but came across someone he did not recognise.

A man, possibly a year or two younger than himself, stood in front of him. Piercing blue eyes and black hair covered by a brown cloak. "Good morning," the young man greeted.

"Good morning," Diarmuid replied, keeping cautious of the male.

A bright smile from the young man's part, "May I enter?" There was delight in his eyes, relief even—as if he was glad to have come across them.

Diarmuid blinked, "I am sorry, but who are you?"

"Ah," the male nodded and extended a hand, "Merlin. I am Merlin."

Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame, Diarmuid blinked, "What would you like?"

Seeing as how the Irishman was not going to shake his hand, Merlin retracted it and nodded again, "I came to meet with Arturia. I honestly thought it would be a longer while for her to arrive, but I am glad that she has finally arrived back in Camelot."

"What is it that you want with my sister?"

"There is no need to lie to me. Though, I never would have thought that Igraine had given her to an Irish Knight... It must have been a long journey on her part."

"Excuse me? Who are you and how do you—"

"I told you, I am Merlin. Arturia is—" The male stopped as he realised that they were in a public space, "—it is best to speak inside."

Diarmuid stepped aside and allowed for the man to enter. "Arturia is...?" He continued the other male's sentence as to spark the conversation back up.

Merlin noted that the little child was currently packing some candles into a small bag, making sure to look up at them when she had heard her name. "Hello there," Merlin greeted, "You look a lot older now; you've turned into a big girl, right my little princess?"

Arturia looked at him past her small eyelashes and she gave a little smile, "Thank you," she mumbled as she bowed her head in respect to the older male.

Diarmuid pursed his lips and then opened them once more, "How do you—"

"I have already told you, I am Merlin. Arturia is, well, she is special. Her mother has sent me to watch over her. I have always been watching over her, but now I can do so first hand." Merlin turned towards Diarmuid, who only gave him a confused look.

Diarmuid furrowed his brows and tried to understand the words of the male, "Pardon me?"

"Alright, we'll begin from the start. I am a loyal servant of Igraine, this little girl's real mother." The young male stopped and took a breath. "Upon learning that the Saxons were to kill the newborns, she was able to run away. It had truly taken her a while but she made it and when she returned to Camelot, she was weak beyond all hope. I had tried my best to save her with the best of my abilities, but it had been to late and she had passed away, entrusting Arturia to me."

"I am sorry," he breathed, "But this is not the child that you have been looking for. Arturia and I come from Hibernia, and I can assure you that no mother could possibly travel from Camelot to Hibernia with a newborn babe in her hands."

Merlin took yet another deep breath and dropped his gaze to view the small female again,"But Igraine did, and Arturia is alive. Look, Diarmuid, this is the Arturia that we have been awaiting; whether you wish to believe it or not." He then looked back up at Diarmuid, "She was born on the evening of the sixteenth day in September. Igraine had left her at your doorstep in the early days of spring of the following year... I am very glad that my mistress was able to find a good man to entrust her with, though a woman would have been more fitting in my eyes."

At the given moment, Diarmuid had not wanted to think about it, "It was very nice to meet you, Merlin, I haven't any idea of why you know my name and how you have found us but it would be best if you leave us alone." He was possibly an imposter if anything and he was not the slightest bit special.

"Alright then, look," Merlin smiled eagerly and lifted his hand in front of his face. He then blew on something that looked like purple dust and mumbled some words under his breath.

Right then, in front of Diarmuid's very own eyes, a scene formed—like a play. He himself was sitting when a knock on the door had stopped him, and then he recognized what was happening before him; it was the day he had met Arturia. Taking a step back, the male watch as the past was preformed by the dust and then he shot his head to Merlin, "A wizard?"

"Magic!" The little girl giggled as she clapped her hands together, "Magic!"

His smile widened and he seemed even more excited, "Yes, I have been trying to explain it; but worry not! I am not going to harm you or her—I am here to save both of you."

"More! May I see more magic tricks?" Arturia laughed as she walked up to Merlin.

Now, Diarmuid was having a rather hard time. To begin with, he had already been tricked by a Witch before and his life had fallen out of place then but then again, his own foster father had had possessed magic and he had been a good man. "Fine, I have no choice but to let you stay," he said as he witnessed the child holding onto the male's pant leg, "but, if you do anything to hurt her..."

Merlin brought a hand up to salute, "Yes, sir. I promise not to disappoint."

"Oh, and you would have to carry your own weight."

"I have a home here," the younger of the two chirped, "it is not too far and it is not that big, but it will work for the three of us. Unless you would rather pay per night."

Diarmuid blinked and then nodded, "Alright then, thank you." He mumbled as Arturia went back to packing once Merlin had done a small magic trick for her; making her a little bird statue from the dust.

He always held tightly to her hand for he had been afraid of loosing her. Her small hand securely held between his fingers, her body close so that she would not wander far. It was not as if he was trying to keep her caged, but they were dangerous times, and if he did not keep an eye on her, it was possible that he would loose her.

Merlin had offered to haul the horse as they walked to his cabin house, he had promised it was not too far, but Arturia was already beginning to get tired from the mindless walking. After a bit of complaining from Diarmuid's part because she was asking for water, they had arrived at the small house.

It was smaller than he had imagined, which had caught him off guard because he thought it would be able to hold at least another two people. The little girl—now on the man's shoulders—cried out in joy. "I like it!" She smiled brightly.

"I am glad that you like it, princess." Merlin smiled and nodded at her. "It has a garden in the back, so we needn't go to the market all the time. There are only two rooms, which means you and Arturia must share one, and the kitchen is a reasonable size..."

"A garden?" Diarmuid lifted and eyebrow.

A nod from the blue-eyed male, "I like to save money."

"That is fine, I only want to keep my horse away from it."

"Oh, of course. We can pay to keep him in a stable until we can formally get him his own."

The Irishman nodded, "If you say."

They then entered the house, and it seemed a bit more spacious than it did from the outside. There was no set kitchen, the living room and the kitchen were combined and there was a small table in the middle. It seemed like a warm house, it had a warm atmosphere and a welcoming feeling. But the size of the house seemed uncomfortable for him because it reminded him of that cabin in the woods,and for a split second he felt the coldness of winter wash over him.

"Is everything alright, Diarmuid?" The voice had snapped him out of the trance and the Irishman looked over at the other male.

"Yes," he had spoken lowly but made sure to sound unaffected.

"I am sorry it looks so much like it. I tried to make it different, guess it did not work." Merlin mumbled. "Though I hope that you are able to make better memories here."

"Yes, thank you."


	9. Wooden Swords

"What do you think he meant by that, darling?" Diarmuid asked the little girl, of which sat patiently on the bed as he tried his best to French braid her golden locks. He kept his thoughts on what the young man had said the day before; his mind still not comprehending the words.

Her head flinched and she cried out a little bit. "Not too tight, brother."

"Oh, forgive me, Artie." He patted her head a couple of times and continued braiding her hair.

Smiling, she looked up at him from the small mirror, "What do you mean, brother?"

Upon finishing her braid, she turned around and faced him properly. Kneeling on the bed, she pulled Dairmuid down to sit next to her whilst reaching out her hand to take a hold of his messy hair. "My turn!" She giggled and he obeyed by sitting on the bed properly and allowed for her to play with his hair.

"Well, do you like Merlin?" He asked as she started by brushing his hair back.

"Tangly," she gave a comment on his locks as her small hands were stuck every now and again, "Mhmm, I like big brother Merlin... and you?"

Diarmuid was silent for a little while, "I do not know what to think of him... what about me? Do you like me?"

"I love you!" She giggled and tried to wrap her small arms around his neck. "But sometimes you can be scary..." she had mumbled it in a low voice, slightly hoping that he would not hear her.

Upon hearing her words, a wave of guilt washed over him and he felt unclean again. He pushed her away softly, as so not to alarm her, and gave her a small smile, "I guess I can be... I am sorry."

"It is fine because I still love big brother," she gave one last giggle and kissed him on the cheek before continuing to tie his hair in a variety of pony tails and pig tails.

It was a nice sunny afternoon, but Arturia had said that she had not wanted to leave the house, so they had decided to stay and play games. Merlin was currently looking for some herbs or something of the sort and had said that he would not be home for another hour or two. Diarmuid had wanted to go out but he thought it best to obey Arturia every once in a while.

The sun was still high in the sky when Merlin came stumbling into their room unannounced, "Diarmuid," he panted, sweat glistening his forehead and delight in his blue eyes.

Diarmuid blinked and tried to understand why the male was sounding so happy, "Yes?" He asked.

Merlin gave a chuckle, "First off, Princess, you are doing a wonderful job—Diarmuid is looking like a true beauty," he took a deep breath, "But that is not the reason I came. Diarmuid, there is delightful news for both you and Arturia; the king is looking for Knights and I have convinced him to take you into consideration and Arturia can be a squire. Of course she'll start with basic things and all but in a few years she will be able to officially hold a sword and compete in small scale arena tournaments..." he looked off to the side as to remember, "for children."

Diarmuid remained still for a while, he blinked at the male before him a couple of times and gave a small nod, "Alright," he finally smiled, "when do I go prove myself worthy?" He asked once he saw Merlin's face light up once again.

"There is a tournament; the top three men will have to face His strongest knights and if they succeed, then they too will become knights. Of course this is only if you have no formal title in Logres. You are rather arguable since you are the son of Donn, but I feel you are capable of handling one of the King's knights." The younger of the two explained, "What do you think?" He raised an eyebrow and gave a daring grin.

Diarmuid looked at Arturia for approval and she gave him a rapid nod, "Try it, brother."

"Good then," Diarmuid nodded, "When is the tournament?"

"In two days' time. But Arturia can start with her training tomorrow; she will be the only girl in the class, so do not take it to heart. Mothers here do not really have the luxury to put young girls in the program. Though, there are children either four years of age or seven and up."

"I am glad that there are still a lot of children around though," he sighed, "Arturia will be able to make friends, right?"

"Hm!" Arturia smiled brightly and jumped down from the bed, "I'll make lots of friends!"

"Or maybe not..." She stood still by the gate of the small training grounds. There were boys everywhere and she already felt intimidated, they were much taller than her and of course much more scarier.

Diarmuid patted her head softly as she was hiding behind him, "It will be alright, okay Artie? If anyone does something to you, you have to tell me, okay?"

Arturia looked up at the towering man and gave a reassuring nod, even if she herself was not assured, "Okay," she mumbled and entered the small play ground, if you may. Looking back, she saw Diarmuid with a smile on his face and she felt a little forced to smile and give him a wave.

Merlin gave her an enthusiastic wave in return as Diarmuid gave her a solemn one, almost as if he was afraid to let her go.

Taking a deep breath, she walked closer to one of the older males and asked for his help to getting her to the instructor. "W-where is mister Alexander?" She asked, blinking a few times.

"He is in the cabin," the tall boy answered and pointed at the small structure, "is he your father?" The boy then asked as he had looked over at he tall Irishman.

Shaking her head she declined, "No, that's my big brother."

"Woah! He looks so cool!" The child grinned and then waved at Diarmuid, who returned the gesture, "Is he a Knight? I bet so!"

Again Arturia shook her head, "No, he wants to be one though."

"My name is Gawain." He stretched out his hand once he had switched the wooden sword to his left hand.

Not knowing what to do with his hand, she blinked at him, also recalling that Diarmuid did the same with Merlin.

"You're supposed to shake it, silly." He grinned and took her right hand to shake it.

"Oh," she nodded.

Gawain looked at her for a little while, "A knight always returns their name; it is one of the codes of Chivalry."

"Oh!" Arturia's eyes grew in embarrassment, Diarmuid had not taught her that one yet, "My name is Arturia, but my brother calls me Artie, Gwa—Gawin?" She was already having trouble pronouncing his name.

Laughing he reasoned, "Okay, I will call you Artie and you call me Wayne, deal?"

She shook her head lightly, "Only my brother can call me Artie."

"Then what about Turia?"

"Deal." She nodded, "Well, I have to see Mister Alexander, so bye bye Wayne." She waved as she hurried off. Good, she had already made one friend or at least one less enemy.

Walking past the dirt filled training area, she finally reached the Cabin and with a knock entered. There was a big man, goodness! She used to think that Diarmuid was tall, but this man was huge. Compared to her stature, he was probably as tall as a princess tower—no he was much taller, she thought. "Hello little girl," his voice was much too deep and he had a strong nose, prominent and well fitted to his built self. Red hair and a red beard to complete the frightening look.

"What's wrong?" He looked down at her, noting that her eyes were wide and her jaw had dropped.

"N-nothing!" She almost had trouble speaking for a second there, "H-hello M-mister Alexander," She nodded.

"You must be Arturia, yes? I imagined you to be a little bit taller, I should not have expected much from a five-year-old, now should have I?" He tried to crouch down to her level but he was still too tall.

"I am Arturia," she nodded, "and I know not what you sh-should have espictad." What did that word even mean? Espected? Espicted? What? She had no understanding.

"Expected, sweetie, expected. Now, do you want to be a squire?" He looked upon her.

Arturia shook her head rapidly, "I want to be knight, sir! Like my big brother."

"Yes, but becoming a squire comes before knighthood."

"Oh," she became much more silent again, "then that too," she was nodding her head much more enthusiastically than she had been minutes before.

The big man smiled down at her and patted her head softly, "Alright then. What would you like to start with? Self defence or watching over your classmates to see what they are up to; maybe test your level?"

She was blinking up at him, not really understanding why he seemed so happy. Arturia also noticed that although the man was huge, he was rather nice and seemed warm hearted, if anything. "I would like to see how close I am to my big brother. I want to test my knightly level," she grinned.

"A knight? You will be the only female Knight that I have ever known. Do you promise to be the best Knight ever?"

She brought he right hand to her chest, "I promise you sir to do my best!"

"Then I shall have no problem with you." He gave her another pat on the head before standing and walking over to the door, "We should get started as soon as possible, correct?"

"Yes, Sir!"

They exited the cabin and made their way back to the training grounds, where Arturia noticed that Merlin and Diarmuid had already left. She was sort of hoping that he would stay so that he would be able to watch over her and see her progress, but she guessed that he had to be somewhere else and it was all for her good—at least that was what he always told her.

The tall man handed her a sword, a wooden sword, and let her hold it in her hands for a short while. He noted that she examined it thoroughly and counted every little imperfection it held.

That was what she was indeed doing, checking what she could use to her advantage. The small cuts on the edge of the wood or the worn down tip; they would all benefit her in whatever battle she was having. Optimism; that was what Diarmuid called it—whatever that word actually was.

"Alright, sweetie, you will be fighting one of my best students; now do not be discouraged. He might be tall but you can always triumph," Alexander did not believe his own words but gave her encouragement either way.

"Thank you," she smiled up at him and then wrapped both hands around the handle of the wooden weapon.

"Come here!" The man waved over to a boy that Arturia could not yet see.

From a little group of tall boys, one emerged with another wooden sword in his hands; the weapon was in the same condition as her own—worn down. A grape violet hung down to his shoulders in the form of thin hair, purple eyes looking back at her with no expression.

"Arturia Duibhne," she mumbled as she crossed swords with the taller male.

"Lacelot du Lac." His voice as expressionless as his facial features, making her more intimidated than she wished to be.

The boy pulled his sword back, indicating the start of the match, and so they began.


End file.
